


Flutter

by anxiousgeek



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, F/M, Panic Attacks, not really smut at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:38:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2445749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxiousgeek/pseuds/anxiousgeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pepper’s always asleep when he gets home. Until she’s not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flutter

She's always asleep when he comes home. 

He didn't understand it at first – for the longest time – he went on missions, kissed her or wished her goodbye and when he came home he would find her asleep in bed. Their bed. Always asleep. Wrapped up in the blankets, wearing t-shirts and pyjama pants, curled up on her side of the large bed as if taking up any of his space was unthinkable. 

As if he would be back any minute. 

Though, he supposed, given the amount of times she fell asleep waiting for him to come home that made a lot of sense.

He was always awake when she came home, always waited before he even went to bed, sometimes not realising she hadn't come home until the sun hit his face through the windows of his new workshop high above New York. 

They were just different like that, he supposed.

But then – he wasn't worrying about her life or her safety. Just her sanity as she battled with paperwork instead of enemies or aliens or psycho robot AIs (he was never giving Jarvis a body).

One day she was going to leave him. One night he was going to come home and find the bed empty. It wasn't a fear as far as he was concerned. It was a certainty. Even Pepper Potts wouldn't stay by his side forever.

It happened sooner than he thought. 

One night he was out, smashing faces in with his fist, and blasting holes in the sides of buildings and blasting holes in faces with his fists and when he came home, tired and broken and feeling torn into little pieces despite his suit being at 80% and Pepper wasn't there.

Not in their bed and not in their penthouse. 

He panicked. Felt it start slow in his chest, right behind where the arc reactor used to be. It was almost like it was back, pulsing away in his chest – an uneven rhythm he couldn't quite get his head around. Couldn’t quite control.

“Where's Pepper?” he asked, strained, an octave higher than usual.

“Miss Potts is in the workshop, Sir.”

The panic didn't subside, didn't leave, just built, slowly, steadily. He felt it down to his stomach and up to his throat. Squeezing around his lungs tight and pushing the air back up, back out until every breath was a gasp. He dropped to his knees and hugged himself around the middle, forehead resting on the cool floor. He thought he had this licked, had this panic dealt with, that it was gone but he wanted to scream and shout and he couldn't breathe. Couldn't fucking breathe.

Then Pepper was there, on her knees beside him, in a t-shirt and pyjama pants, arm around him calling to him softly.

“Tony, Tony, Tony.”

He couldn't speak, but he could fall to his side, curled up and pale, staring at her as she lay next to him, wrapping herself around him and shushing him and rocking them both back and forth slightly. She kissed him all over, his forehead, his lips, his cheeks, neck, every bit of skin she could reach without untangling the two of them and he still couldn't breathe properly but at least he wasn't dying. Wasn't going to die. Wasn't already dead.

“I'm here Tony. I love you. I'm here.”

“Do you require a doctor Miss Potts?” 

“No.” 

No, no, he didn't need a doctor, he just needed her.

“Tony, Tony, can you get up.”

He wasn't sure he could ever get up again, but he let her help him sit up. He kissed her back, desperate, breath still coming out in gasps against hers and she wrapped both arms around him and held him tight until, until the fuzz around the edges of his world cleared and he could see her, alive and wonderful and with him.

“You weren't in bed,” he managed to get out but Pepper ignored him, urging him to his feet and into their bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at her, he could catch his breath but couldn't rid the harsh vibration in his chest. She started to undress him, pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it to the side, placing her fingertips on the healing scars on his chest for a moment. It did nothing to calm him further – this was as good as he was going to feel for now, breathing hard but whole, chest throbbing inside in that odd rhythm. It wasn't going to go away. Not yet. 

Not yet.

He closed his eyes and let Pepper undress him, until he was down to his boxer briefs and she was pulling them off too, palming him. She had never dealt with his panic attacks before, at least not like this, not this bad, and he couldn't, couldn't get into it.

Until she dipped her head down into his lap and took him into her mouth.

The throb became a thud right through his body and he groaned as he grew hard in her mouth, deep in her until she was choking a little. She knew exactly how to get him off – always had – she was as quick and efficient as ever, with little hands, and little licks here and there. He couldn't quite forget the throb in his chest but was distracted enough as the throb intensified elsewhere; surrounded by the warm suction of her mouth over and over until he was shuddering, right on the edge. 

“Pep – I'm gonna come.”

She didn't reply, didn't stop, didn't slow and he shouted as he came in her mouth, groaning as she swallowed it all down. She didn't always do that, didn't always swallow, but god when she did....

He collapsed back on the bed unable to open his eyes or breathe properly for an entirely different reason and listened to the sound of Pepper moving around him for a moment. The throb became a flutter, low level anxiety pulsing gently through him and never really going away. He felt like giving into it again for a moment until she crawled into bed and told him to join her.

“You weren't here,” he tried again, as she pulled the quilt over them, and he watched her face in the darkness. 

“I couldn't sleep.”

“You're always asleep,” he said, “you're always asleep and here.”

Desperate again, and the flutter became a thud, his breath became a gasp until she pulled him to her, kissing him.

“I didn't realise Tony, I didn't know,” she whispered. 

“You're always asleep.”

“I always have sleeping pills,” she admitted. “I ran out and didn't have time to get more.”

He pulled away from her them, from her light kisses and strong hold.

“You're taking sleeping pills!?”

“Only when you go on missions,” she said, closing her eyes and burying her face in his chest, “only when you're gone longer than a day.”

“Why?” he asked, the flutter forgotten for a moment. 

“I never sleep when you're gone, not without help,” she said, looking up at him. “I worry too much.”

“Oh.” 

She kissed him on the lips and settled on his shoulder, relaxed. 

The flutter in his chest returned but he could settle too. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. 

“Not now,” he said. “Not now.”

Not ever, he thought. 

If she was going to leave, when she leaves, it wasn't going to be soon.

**Author's Note:**

> This is anxiety as I experience it (sometimes). The slow build and then full on panic then low level anxiety. 1250 words. Not sure where it came from (the fic not the anxiety).


End file.
